Author shares how he conquers severe pain

"Finding Reasons to Smile: How I Conquer Severe Chronic Pain and Enjoy Life" By D.G. Fraser. Self-published with Xlibris at www.Xlibris.com. March 2017.

Very little compromises our lives with as much devastation as chronic pain. No matter your intention, your personality, your social graces or your cache of painkillers, pain is one of life’s greatest levelers.

David Fraser, a large-scale events manager in the field of hospitality and longtime resident of Peabody, Massachusetts, got to know pain as few of us do. He is never free of it. In the last 12 years, chronic and debilitating pain has reshaped his body, deflated his spirit and rendered him powerless. He was seconds away from suicide when he found another way to succumb, a way that pointed him forward on an unexpected, uplifting path. And though he continues to manage life while always wriggling in the grip of pain, his way forward is one of joy and love. His new book, "Finding Reasons to Smile," reads like spiritual testimony. If he has his way, his book will lift others as well.

Invasive, sometimes horrific treatments for a series of serious ailments including 12 to 14 migraines a week, progressive cervical spine disease, life-threatening sleep apnea and pulmonary tumors have resulted in neck and head pain that drove Fraser to seek medical solutions. His situation was complicated by the fact that he could not tolerate painkillers.

"Pain happened to me and got very bad very quickly," says Fraser, a man now accustomed to enumerating the details of his body’s betrayal. No matter what he tried in terms of medical intervention, "pain came back with a vengeance."

Surgeries were brutal. There were three neck surgeries for what turned out to be massive numbers of bone spurs. But the pain persisted and was, most likely, the cause of all the migraines. The most horrific and invasive surgical procedure was undertaken after tests revealed that Fraser was waking up about 167 times every hour. He was awake at least 10 seconds each time. The sleep apnea, said doctors, was the worst they’d seen. His life was likely to end 15 to 20 years prematurely. One day, said one of his doctors, you just won’t wake up.

Fraser describes the maxilla mandibular advancement surgery this way: "They cut my head in two." And he’s not far off in his graphic description because he wound up with a head full of plates, brackets and screws. He needed a wider air passage if he were to survive. Living through recovery, which included 10 weeks with his jaw wired shut, was an exercise in minute-to-minute panic management.

"I had to find my own way, my own strength," the 55-year-old says. And the first step was to accept defeat. "I meditated and calmed myself. I breathed slower. All of a sudden, I felt myself passing through the pain and, somehow, I found some peace. In that moment, I also found strength. I realized I was greater than my pain and that I could see through the pain. I saw that there was more to it. I saw a pinpoint of light. I saw I had fight in me, still."

The migraines, some of them so powerful that it took Fraser three days to recover, were treated with a series of drugs, many of them utterly stupefying. Doctors then administered 34 shots of Botox every three months for three years, again without much improvement. What has worked best, by far, is the surgical insertion of a neuro-stimulator that directs current to the area where the pain is most severe. The frequency of his migraines dropped from 12 to 14 a week to three or four a month.

Pain comes with a lot of collateral damage. Fraser and his mate of 28 years, Leo, lost many friends. These losses were hurtful. Some people accused Fraser of being a hypochondriac. Fraser admits in his book that he was verbose and descriptive about the details of his medical conditions, and he says he was negative, especially at times in his life when the pain was extreme and the hope all but vanquished. He lost or quit one job after another, went back to school to learn a new trade and was still unable to work. He became legally disabled at 50, a tough reckoning for a man who loved work and had earned money since he was a child.

Meditation, gentle physical exercise and an unrelenting focus on the parts of life that make him happy are the tools Fraser uses now to reorient himself.

"The more I changed how I thought about pain, the more I changed the way I thought about and reacted to my depression," he writes. He watches sunsets, lays still and remembers loving moments spent with Leo and friends, and always practices gratitude.

Fraser is a man immersed in the demanding work of managing his own pain. His book, which he wrote a half hour at a time because of the neck pain, is honest and forthright. Despite what he’s been through, and whatever awaits — doctors have found more pulmonary tumors — he is intent on helping people through the chaos of powerful and chronic pain.

At the end of his book, Fraser generously details the daily practice he devised to live in happiness while accommodating his chronic pain. Among the entries: "I think of those I love." "I concentrate on the beauty in my days."

You can reach Rae Padilla Francoeur — author, journalist, essayist and book reviewer — at rae@raefrancoeur.com.